Fix this country

When I look at this country
with its gaping sores that ooze puss
And the frightening silence that predicts its doom
I remember the old man on that high table,
who only but yesterday was a-beg-gar of us
I remember the destinies we tossed on a flip of coins;
Pretend. And called flames flowers. Losses are profits.

Brood. Zoom. Gloom and this country is doom
There is no peace in these pieces here
To tell of how pregnant women give it up in Korle Bu;
And the thousand ghosts roaming our death-trap roads
To tell of how golden, water has become
And how the Akosombo almost always never gives light

There are no tales here;
To sing of how ale and beer is a hard-to-come-by
And death is sold on our highways
And how the man in the castle never hears

There are no graves to bury our heroes
No coffins to lay in state our broken identity
For these scavengers have fed on our innards

We are chasing demons
We are running away from the sun
We are walking hardships

And we are mourning too
//Fix This Country//
//Fix This Country//
//Fix This Country//

Fix this land
For all the cacophony made at our doorsteps yesterday
Fix this country
For all the land you "eat" like a marauding horde of locusts

Fix it and fix that,
Like how you and I lied to each other yesterday
Of creating a new sun for this backward country
As if you were a godly entity saving our death for your
last term.

#FixThisCountry